


Neglected Jabs and the Consequences Thereof

by DemonicSymphony



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caretaker Mycroft, Fluff, M/M, POV Greg, Sickfic, Winter Mystrade Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicSymphony/pseuds/DemonicSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg neglects to do something he should and winds up sick... With only a little lecturing, Mycroft nurses him through it.</p>
<p>Written for the Mystrade Winter Exchange...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neglected Jabs and the Consequences Thereof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antheas_Blackberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheas_Blackberry/gifts).



> Thanks to MissDavisWrites and the Antidiogenes crowd!
> 
> For antheas-blackberry who confessed a love of sickfic and tissue sharing and cuddling. I hope I did it justice for you!

It started with a sneeze. Greg reached for the tissue on his desk and prayed he wasn’t coming down with something. He scrubbed his hand through short, silver hair and eyed the clock. “God it’s going to be a long night.”

His fingers moved over his phone as he texted his husband.

_Going to be a late night. Wrapping up paperwork for those murders._

A few minutes later a text came through and he smiled at it.

_I’ll stay late tonight instead of tomorrow then. That way we’re working late together._

How he’d got lucky enough to snag Mycroft Holmes, Greg would never understand. Sure, it had been Sherlock who’d tricked them into the marriage… but then they’d stayed together. He decided it was best not to dwell on it, and just be glad he had Mycroft.

By the time he was done with his paperwork, Greg’s nose was running and he was feeling a bit foggy.

_’Shit, maybe I’m just tired...’_ he thought to himself as he gathered his things to make the drive home. The drive was too long for his liking and when he pulled in, he was relieved to see the bedroom light on.

With a small sigh, he heaved himself out of the car and into the house. He dropped his things in the expensive hall tree just inside the door before hanging his coat in the closet and padding up the stairs to their bedroom. 

Mycroft was reading on his tablet as he entered. He set his reading glasses and the tablet aside.

Greg smiled as he took in how Mycroft’s reddish hair was escaping its hold in soft curls. He moved to his side and kissed his head.

“You look ill, Gregory.”

“And you look delightful with your shirtsleeves rolled up like that.”

Mycroft fixed him with a stare and quirked a brow.

“Mm, bit of the sniffles. Tired, be right as rain in the morning,” Greg answered as he moved to the closet and stripped, putting his clothes in the hamper before slipping into a pair of comfortable pajama bottoms. 

Greg padded barefoot across the lush carpet and climbed into bed next to Mycroft. He sighed gratefully when Mycroft set the tablet aside and wrapped him in his arms.

“Rest. It will do more than anything else to shake whatever it is,” Mycroft murmured.

It wasn’t long at all before Greg was asleep against Mycroft, body registering the warmth and comfort of being snuggled so close to him.

\---

The morning brought a cool cloth to his face and Mycroft staring down at him with a pinched expression.

“Gregory, your temperature is too high. Take this… drink this water.”

Too tired to argue, Greg took the pills and slowly drank the water. “Feel like a bloody lorry hit me.”

“Yes, well, I suspect with a fever like that you would,” Mycroft answered, words soft. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay home, Gregory. I can’t possibly allow you outside of the house like this.”

Greg glared at Mycroft with half-hearted effort. “Only because I know you wouldn’t really bar me from leaving.”

“Mm, in any case, Dr. Pearson will be here in about an hour.”

WIth a low sigh, Greg laid back against the pillows again. He was able to keep still for a few minutes before he swore and dragged himself out of bed. 

“Gregory, do you think it’s wise-”

“I’ve got a cold, Mycroft. I’m going to take a shower. I swear, I’m fine, just a bit of a cold,” Greg huffed as he made his way to the bathroom, sniffing against his dripping nose. “Bloody viruses.”

Greg managed to put himself in the shower, muttering about the temperature all the while.

Mycroft met him with a thick gown and tenderly towel dried his hair for him. He helped him into warm, soft pyjamas and settled him back into bed before going to make tea for them both. Just before Doctor Pearson arrived, Mycroft brought the tray up and wrapped Greg’s hands around a warm mug depicting cat arses he’d got in a gag gift swap some years ago.

“Just this once I’ll allow you to have tea out of that hideous thing,” Mycroft huffed as he nodded to it, though there was a twitch of his lips that gave him away.

Doctor Pearson bustled in and started examining Greg. He tutted as he pulled away a few minutes later. “Given your symptoms and the fact that you never did come by and see me for your flu jab…”

Greg groaned. “I don’t have time to be out with full blown influenza.” He winced as his nose was swabbed.

“Nevertheless,” Pearson continued as he put the swab in a bag, “You need to stay home and rest. Fluids and rest.” 

He turned to address Mycroft. “Mr. Holmes, you should be fine. The jab has been very effective this year. I’ll take this and test to make sure, but I’m almost certain you’re dealing with the flu.” 

He disappeared to the bathroom to wash up as Mycroft soothed Greg back into the bed. 

“I did tell you to go, Gregory.”

Greg glared at Mycroft before snatching a tissue from the bedside table and blowing his nose obnoxiously.

Mycroft’s lips twitched, but he did not openly smile. He rose to show Doctor Pearson out and was gone for a bit as he instructed their cook on what to do for the next several days. When he returned upstairs, he came bearing a tray.

“Juice, soup, and your copy of The Life of Brian.” 

A smile lit up Greg’s face and he accepted the tray. “You’re going to watch The Life of Brian with me?”

“I can appreciate Monty Python, thank you… I am usually too busy to do so.” Mycroft quipped as he moved to the cabinet and opened it, revealing their TV and accessories. Soon, the opening was playing and Mycroft was sliding into bed next to Greg.

Greg sipped at his juice and his soup as they watched the movie together. 

It was several hours before Greg woke, his temperature starting to rise again. He groaned, tossing in the sheets. The tray had disappeared and the TV was down low, playing an old footie match.

Mycroft was beside him in an instant, soothing him back down and making him swallow more paracetamol before making him drink some more juice.

“I’ve called your supervisor and cleared my schedule as much as possible,” Mycroft assured him

Greg let out a soft whine and closed his eyes again, letting Mycroft wipe his brow with a damp cloth.

“It’s alright, Gregory. It’s going to be alright.”

“Fuck that.” Greg muttered. “Bloody flu. My entire body aches.”

A small smile twisted Mycroft’s lips up. “Perhaps you’ll listen the next time I tell you to get your flu jab.

Greg huffed. “I’ve learned my lesson, no lectures, Myc… please.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh. “My mother is a terrible influence on you.”

Greg grinned as he laid back into the pillows again. “You love me in spite of it.”

“I love you because of it… rest, Gregory.”

A small smile stayed on Greg’s lips even as he fell back asleep.

\---

The next two days were full of Greg barely moving from the bed and Mycroft working from his tablet in the room when Greg was asleep. He headed off two major crises from their bedroom via the tablet, and was finally dozing against the headboard, tablet in his lap, when Greg stirred.

Greg looked over at Mycroft, noting how tired he looked. He smiled and slipped from bed. God, he still hurt, but at least he was up and moving, temperature seeming back to normal. 

The shower was heaven and when he came back out, wearing a towel and searching for fresh pyjamas, Mycroft blinked awake.

“Gregory, you should have woken me.”

“Shh, I’m going to put clean pyjamas on… Then why don’t we go downstairs and relax on the sofa?” Greg smiled to him as he pulled out his favorite flannel pyjamas.

Mycroft pulled himself from the bed and ensconced himself in the bathroom to freshen up as Greg got ready. He was surprised to find the bed stripped when he came out.

He clicked his tongue. “You’ll wear yourself out Gregory.”

“My side was soaked. I didn’t want to come back to it.” Greg answered, strain evident in his voice.

“To the sofa with you…” Mycroft steered him out. “I’ll have the linens changed, don’t worry about that.”

They made their way down the stairs and into the sitting room. Well, _’media room’_ , Greg thought to himself. He couldn’t help but smile as he sank onto the plush sofa, remembering the row he’d had with Mycroft. 

Greg had insisted they take all the intimidating furniture out of the room and replace it with the sofa and two reclining chairs. Mycroft had acquiesced, but demanded they keep the dark, rich colors and Greg hadn’t pushed the issue. It did make for easier viewing...

Once Greg was settled, the remote in his hand, Mycroft disappeared to the kitchen.

Greg flipped through the channels, looking for something to watch, eventually he settled on a documentary he thought they’d both enjoy.

Mycroft came back, bearing a tray and Greg smiled up to him.

“You spoil me, Mycroft…” Greg murmured.

“Nonsense,” Mycroft replied as he sat down. “I take my vows very seriously.”

Greg looked over at him and burst into laughter leaving Mycroft to roll his eyes.

“The same vows you slurred your way through, leaning against me?”

Both of them looked up to their wedding photo, the pair of them obviously intoxicated. 

“How was I to know Sherlock had got himself ordained and already had the paperwork printed up, ready to file?”

Greg snorted. “Because you’re Mycroft bloody Holmes.”

Mycroft sniffed and turned his nose up slightly. “Well, we could always get it annulled.” There was a slight grin, a teasing tone to his words.

With a hand in his shirt, Greg tugged Mycroft against him, snogging him hard before releasing him, voice rough.

“Not on your life, husband.”


End file.
